hello.

i wear the same necklace every day

and if you give me another ill wear that one too

i keep a careful planner and find myself embarrassed by it

im skeptical of generalizations

and i drink more water than anyone i know

my humor is dry

and my eyes almost never are

in a not so sad sort of way

the smells that i love are actually people

and the dried flowers in my room are people too

and people are everything

and everything is people

im terrified of the future

im in love with the future

im terrified of love

im in love with love

im terrified of you.

ink & keystrokes

something about drafts & page 1

i was born on the sixth.

I was born on the sixth.
and I'm often found in my room

I've never been fond of growing up
and I'm afraid that everyone will leave.

I work at Hobby Lobby
and I'm terrible at goodbyes.

I cry too often to be taken seriously

I'm self-conscious of my weight
and really good at comparisons.

I love the smell of rain
and the way the sky seems to be painted just for me;
that kind of constant change that takes your breath away.

I love to drive with my arm out the window
and I sing at the top of lungs
                        but only when I'm alone.

I've never been in love
but have somehow fallen out of it more than once.

I'm often unsure of what to do
and I wish I wouldn't let people hurt me in the way they do.

My lungs rarely fill to capacity
and I run out of breath far too often.



Hi.
My name is paige.

I never learned to whistle.

I love the sound of my grandmother's voice
so I call her just to talk.

If you see me without my water bottle
I'm probably thirsty
           and not in the way teenagers in general are thirsty
but genuinely thirsty.

I hate the sound of ticking clocks
and I hope one day I'll come to terms
with time.

but I don't see that happening
so I roll with the punches
and let them catch up with me late at night.

If my husband dies before me I'll already be dead.

My name is paige.
and I was born on the sixth.

whispered

I remember when that boy made fun of my backpack
and that was the first time I held back the tears.
I remember when my sister came to church.
I remember when she loved it.
I remember when my house was pink in the daylight.
I remember when my grandpa pulled me out of the pool by my collar
and I remembered how to breathe.
I remember sitting next to that first boy and forgetting how to breathe.
I remember warm hearts and cold bones.
I remember that long drive when two hearts broke.
I remember Monday morning when I tried to catch your emails in my fingers.
I remember an unexpected phone call and the thing I thought felt like heartbreak.
I remember a text on Wednesday.
I remember a rose on Thursday morning.
I remember the anger
and the sadness on Friday.
I remember a lonely night
and I remember a full journal.
I remember a tight stomach and short texts.
I remember shivering for more reasons than the temperature.
I remember a dusty porch
and awkward silence.
I remember shaking fingers and slow speech.
I remember healing hearts and broken walls.
I remember a hug too long
and then too short.

I remember whispered apologies
and whispered goodbyes.

KETCHIKAN: a tribute

a tribute to ketchikan

the bear 

the brother

the boy who changes his header every week

& puts more work into his blog than any of us

with admiration,

adeline

practice

dried flowers & dusty bookshelves

grateful for the lonely nights

grateful for the sour grapes
and bitter melons

grateful for cold & dry

grateful for the days when the words won't come

grateful for cold feet
& cold hands

grateful for dried flowers & stems

grateful for dusty bookshelves

& thankful for thesauruses.



because time marches on
& on

& one day you'll realize,
you'll know

that those lonely nights weren't as solitary as you thought

& the sour ones sacrificed
a little more
to give the others something to work with.

cold & dry always did give way eventually
& soon you felt the sun on your face
& you knew.

the days when the words did come
were the best days
& you knew.

cold feet were always more than needing warm socks
because nerves seem to always get the best of us.
& cold hands are best for holding,
holding hands to warm our frozen hearts.

those dried flowers & stems
are so much more than one night
or one break up.
they are people.
& memories of people.

dusty bookshelves are waiting
patiently
for you to enjoy
& once you indulge
you'll know

and now you know

that there's so much more

more than

lonely

& sour

& bitter

& cold

& dry

& dusty

so don't lose heart, darling

don't lose heart

because there are beautiful words to be spoken

& heard

& written

& one day

you'll know